Other Side of the Woods
by StarlitHorizons
Summary: Marth has always been known as the 'Little Boy in Red,' even though he has long since outgrown his 'littleness.' It's an annoyance, but he goes on with life, anyways - which usually lands him traveling the woods between his and his sister's home constantly. Stories have always told him to avoid the forest depths and everything within, but how much of it is purely fiction? IkexMarth
1. Chapter 1: Into the Woods

**A/N: **Hi there! I'm Starmy, and this is my first proper fanfic. I'm pretty nervous right about now actually! I've written little drabbles in the past, but nothing like this. So this is both exciting and a little nerve-racking for me, but I hope you guys enjoy what I have here. IkeMarth (lovingly dubbed Sparkly Chicken Nuggets by me and a few other friends) is a big ship of mine, so I figured it was only proper I do something for it first. Inspiration just came and I decided to ride with it, and this happened, so!  
Also worth mentioning that my friend ThatWingedWhippersnapper was super wonderful and helped me edit this little fic. I love her; you should love her too.

That being said, all reviews and criticisms are very welcome! I aim to improve, after all. u vu Enjoy!

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**Chapter One: Into the Woods**

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The boy sighed lightly as he rushed through the woods, gripping the basket in his hands tightly. It was a beautiful day, really; the sun was high in the sky, the birds were chirping in the tree branches, there was a gentle breeze cutting through the humid summer air. Even in this darker area of the woods, it was bright and cheerful and colorful and hard to imagine why anyone would believe it was dangerous. He'd been thinking the same at the _entrance_ to this path, but running through it, he wasn't too entirely sure his judgement had been fair.

Of course, he also had to hurry, didn't he? That was the entire reason he'd chosen this path - which was less of a path and more of a faint trail that he had to keep his eyes on constantly. Usually, he was able to just take the longer path at a slow amble. A brisk walk, if anything. And that path was just _so_ lovely, with bright flowers at every turn that he could pick if he so wished because they always made such wonderful bouquets! And birds that he recognized and could actually greet! And occasionally other people passing by that he could give a nice little hello to! And a path that he could actually see! And no noises; no noises like whispers or laughing or growls or screams because that was all just his imagination and the wind and nothing to worry about!

He let out a little shriek as a bird flew past his head, glancing at him quizzically before continuing on its merry way.

With a shaky sigh and a shake of the head, he continued on his way, reaching up and clutching his cloak a little bit tighter around his neck. He'd always thought that he looked rather ridiculous in red, but his mother had always insisted he wear it. It made him easier to find, easier to approach, easier to identify. Plus, everyone loved red. And it was such a lovely cloak that she'd made just for him, so of course he couldn't refuse. On the bright, sunny, _safe_ path he felt nice in it. Like people would know that it was him, that it really identified him as _Marth_. Marth was the one in the little red cloak; Marth was the one with the hand-weaved basket, carrying his medicine to his sister, who lived on the other side of the woods with her husband; Marth was the one with the warm smile that could brighten anyone's day.

Marth most certainly was not one to go on this path.

Of course, there had been a storm a short while ago that had made the woodland path between his older sister's little cabin and his small, quaint town entirely inaccessible, so he'd been unable to get the medicine to her for nearly a week, which meant that there was no time for him to delay! He couldn't worry about the fact that the bush might be moving, or that could be a shadow moving closer to him, or that-

Suddenly, a firm hand clamped down on his shoulder, and he let out a little yelp, immediately freezing up with wide eyes and a frantic heart. He wasn't imagining that. He definitely was not imagining that!

There was a momentary pause where it seemed as though time was practically stopped entirely, but it resumed normally just after. "Didn't your parents ever tell you to never go down the dark path?" a deep voice growled above him, and he slowly turned around to find himself faced with an incredibly terrifying figure. He was tall and broad, with a firm, unamused face and eyes that were practically iron walls. He was scruffy and dirty, his red buttoned shirt patched and torn on the left arm and his pants just as worn and his hands with sharp _claws_. And most notably the tail he just barely glimpsed and the scruffy ears poking out of his messy, messy mop of blue hair. Oh no. Ohhh no. He'd heard about the wolves in the forest who would prey upon unsuspecting little boys and girls that would eat them alive and then use their bones as toothpicks and-

There was a long, deep sigh from the wolf, and he frowned lightly, shaking his head. "I'm not going to _eat_ you, for Pete's sake. It'd be rude to do that on the first meeting, after all, have to wait until at _least_ the third or fourth." He paused for a moment and, seeing as this attempt at lightening the mood didn't work - primarily because every time he talked, it gave Marth a clear view of his very, _very_ sharp teeth - sighed again, shaking his head. "Well, Red Hood? Can you speak for yourself or not?"

Marth blinked a few times at this before taking a deep breath to calm himself. "I… I needed to get across the… the w-woods quickly," he explained softly, looking anywhere but at the intimidating face - or his feet, which were bare and had claws as sharp as those on his hands. "So… So I t-took this route because, um, it's… sh-shorter…" He trailed off a little bit, shifting his grip on his basket.

The wolf examined him for a few moments, one eyebrow raised rather critically. He was going to try and steal the medicine from him, wasn't he? He was going to have to go back and explain why the medicine was gone and have to try and replace it and… Oh, but what if it just tore him to pieces here and now? Had he stepped into his territory or something? This was going to be the end of it, he knew it, and-

"You're going the wrong way," he said flatly, making Marth blink.

"What? But I was… following the p-path-" he stammered, confused, but the wolf shook his head again which made his ears flop a little bit. It would've been amusing, had it not been in _this situation_.

"The path forks," he explained, jerking a thumb back over his shoulder. "One path leads to the other side, the other - this one - leads to the heart of the forest. Where there are more thieves and 'big bad wolves' than you can count." He raised an eyebrow again, eyes lowering to the basket and its contents before looking back to Marth again. "And unless you're looking to go give them a little gift, there, and a nice little trinket to sell-" He gestured at Marth's cloak, "-_and_ a free meal, I suggest, y'know, not going that way."

The shorter boy blinked slowly at this, looking back behind him for a few moments, and then back to the wolf in turn, rather puzzled and a little suspicious. "I didn't see any sort of fork," was the only challenge he gave, studying the man intently.

"Because people don't _use_ that path," the wolf said with exasperation, rolling his eyes. "Because _some_ people have more sense to come in here!"

Marth frowned at this, giving a little huff. "Well excuse _me _for being in a hurry!" He thought for a moment, looking back past this surprisingly-not-vicious wolf with slight worry tugging at his chest. But how was he going to find this fork if he could hardly even see the path he was walking on? If the path he was _supposed _to be walking on was hardly a path at all? Was he just going to be lost wandering here forever?

After a few moments of thought, he looked back to the wolf, who was still standing there for whatever reason. And looking at him with an incredibly degrading expression that he most certainly did not appreciate. With a frown, he raised an eyebrow, and pointed out simply, "You aren't exactly following your own advice by being here, you realize."

"In _case_ you haven't noticed, Red Cloak, I'm a _wolf_. I kind of _live here_. And I have _these_," he replied, raising his hands and waggling his fingers to emphasize the sharp claws on them.

The hooded boy blinked several times at this, frowning again at his own stupidity. "Still, though. Doesn't seem like such a friendly place." These words came out a little more critical than he really intended, but it was a valid point, he thought. One hand had shifted to his hip as he examined the wolf, noticing a few other things. Like how he really wasn't _that _much taller, and how his clothing was worn and a little raggedy, sure, but not _bloodstained _or anything ridiculous. His claws and teeth were sharper than average - far sharper, actually - but they weren't razors. In fact, he might just have mistaken him for someone from town, if not for his more fluffy additions.

"So. Do you want me to show you the way out, then?"

This surprised him, needless to say, and he blinked a few times before meeting his eyes curiously. "You'd show me the way?"

"Well… _yeah_. I'm a _wolf_, not a _monster_." He seemed almost offended by Marth's assumptions. And he supposed it was with good reason; Marth really had no reason not to trust him, right? There were all of the stories about what wolves would do to people, but no one had ever confirmed them. Only passed them along. Like a dirty rumor about them. But still, he was a stranger, and he couldn't help but wonder if even this rumor had a ring of truth to it.

But did he really have any other choice at this point?

He was silent for just a moment as he turned these thoughts over, and his response came out relatively soft; it was more so than intended, but it worked, he supposed. "Please, then."

The wolf sniffed a little bit at this, seemingly appeased. "Stay close," was all he said, and then he turned and began stepping in what seemed to be a completely random direction. Marth considered running in the opposite direction, going back to find the fork himself, but after a moment he made what was quite possibly the most stupid decision of the day; he decided to trust him.

Quickly, he scurried to follow the taller male, sticking close behind him as he glanced around with more confidence than before, but still with slight anxiety. There were still just as many unnerving shadows everywhere - no, there were _more_ now. And was it getting darker? It felt as though it was getting darker, and that was making his nervousness a bit worse, so he looked back up to his guide, who was walking ahead briskly and calmly. He didn't seem to even twitch at even the most disturbing noises that filled this forest - which was the same forest he'd been traveling _himself_ for his whole life, but at the same time, it was so impossibly different. Darker, stranger, more hostile. He wondered _why_ it was like that. There were parts of his side of the forest that were just as dark as here, but they still felt more at home. So shouldn't he be feeling just the same? It made sense, in theory, but there was just something about the _essence_ of it all. It was the same forest, but it wasn't _really_. Not at all.

Was that really what separated him from the man before him…? Living in two different versions of the same forest? That was a little odd to think about. They were so impossibly different, though! So there had to be more to it than that. He was sure. And he still didn't actually know if this wolf was trying to help him or escort him to become some sort of feast for a pack. So maybe he just had to stop being so deep about it all and face the facts? There was nothing poetic about it. After all, the wolf must've grown up in this wilderness. That was generally how it worked, right? Where else would he live? And Marth… Marth lived in a sheltered, friendly town where everyone knew everyone. Those were complete opposites! So he really shouldn't be surprised. He was a wolf. Marth was a human. And they were separate, and that's how things would always be. He had to wonder why, though.

With a small sigh, he looked down at his basket, to the various goods his mother had packed. Some treats, some little cloths and clothing she'd sewn, bread, a small card, some flowers, and finally a few vials of medicine for his sister. He could remember when her illness suddenly sprang up out of nowhere, leaving her bedridden a majority of the time. Merric, her husband, was frequently too busy with his studies to make the trips to come and get this vital substance, so that left Marth to do the deliveries. He'd been doing it for a few years, now, but he'd never once wandered in this direction. Well he had, once, but-

When he suddenly ran into a surprisingly hard barrier, he let out a small noise of shock, expecting it to be a tree or some sort… but found it to be the back of his guide. He blinked a few times as he looked up at the other bluenette, who turned and looked at him with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"Why are we stopping?" Marth asked after gathering his thoughts, confused for a few moments.

The wolf raised an eyebrow lightly, frowning a little bit in slight… what? It seemed very difficult to pinpoint what exactly he was trying to express. "This is the edge of the forest."

Blinking, he gazed around, finding that the wolf was correct - everything was lighter, the trees were much more spaced out, and the general suppressing air of malice had all but evaporated. He supposed that, while he was so absorbed in his thoughts, he'd entirely missed this.

"Oh," he finally said, stepping past the wolf to look out and see if- Yes, there it was. His sister's cabin. He looked back to the boy who'd helped him along the way, who was now regarding him sternly, arms crossed. "What?"

"You're not coming back here," he said flatly, frowning a bit and raising an eyebrow. "Right?"

Eyebrows drawing together, Marth turned to face him fully and asked, "Wha- Into that part of the forest, you mean?"

He nodded in response, ears flopping rather comically once more. "Yeah. It's no place for most people - especially not people like _you_, Little Red."

Marth studied the wolf for a moment or two before breaking out in a warm smile, nodding a little bit in response. "Yeah. Thank you very much for helping me, Mister, ah… You never told me your name?"

The wolf sniffed again, scratching a bit at the back of his head. "Don't mention it. And yeah. I know." He stared hard at the red-clad boy. "You won't need it. Stay safe. And away from the woods." With a final wave, he turned back and simply melded back into the trees as if he'd never been there in the first place. It was odd, almost a little unnerving. He _was_ a wolf, though, he supposed, but still. The bluenette stared after where he'd disappeared for several long moments before shaking his head a little bit and turning, hurrying towards the relatively nearby cabin, unaware of the sharp blue eyes that still followed him.


	2. Chapter 2: Of Thieves and Tales

**A/N: **Hiya, guys! / u\ Thank you so much for the positive feedback on the first chapter! Sorry this one took a bit longer; my creativity comes and goes, I suppose. I'll try and get a bit more constant with updates in the future, I swear. Or I could completely go back on that promise. We'll see.

Once again, I appreciate all criticisms you guys have to offer and I hope you enjoy the fic! n vn/

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**Chapter Two: Of Thieves and Tales**

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It had been a few days since he'd gone into the darker woods. He hadn't told a single person about it; not his sister, not Merric, not his mother, and certainly not his father. His father would never understand his reasoning for going into the dangerous darkness, and would certainly never forgive his association with a _wolf_. He killed wolves for sport occasionally. He never said it outright, since such violent acts were of course _technically_ against the law, _technically_ murder, _technically_ nothing anyone should be able to get away with. But everyone knew he did it, and some people even went along with him, and no one said anything.

Most people thought he was in the right, even. Marth certainly had, since he was younger. He ate up all of the stories of his father going out to take on these big bad wolves, to purge the forest of its evil so that they might one day take it back from the beasts and the thieves, of all of his wild adventures. He would listen and laugh and scream along with the tales while his mother just hung back in silent disapproval that he never quite understood and his sister packed up and left so she wouldn't have to hear them anymore.

He thought he could understand that a little more, now.

There was still something at the back of his mind that told him he was right to feel this way, though. Something that was trying to convince him that it was just a fluke; a single good wolf out of an entire forest of evil, right? He shouldn't have to worry about whether or not half of his childhood had been a lie, because it was so obvious. That the wolves had always been the bad ones, and the people the good. That the wolves had always attacked the people, and the people had never antagonized the wolves except to defend themselves.

He remembered the games from when he was younger, with some of the other kids. Where one child was the wolf, and some kids were the villagers, and some kids were the hunters. The hunters would have to tag the wolf before it tagged all the villagers, and the villagers would have to try and hide everywhere they could without being discovered by the wolf. Or, during Halloween, when the big kids ran around as terrifying wolves to try and steal the candy from the younger ones, threatening to eat them or tear them to bits if they didn't give it all up. Or when there would be stories around campfires and in the dead of night about terrifying beasts known as wolves.

There was one story in particular that they loved to tell, of a young boy who was incredibly reckless and daring. He would take on any challenge that the other children gave him without batting an eye. Climbing the tallest tree on the path? He'd done it twice. Steal the old hag's best pan? He'd swipe it, run around the entire village thrice, and then return it without breaking a sweat. There was one night, though, when the kids egged him on for their greatest dare yet - to spend the night in the woods. Alone.

At first, he scoffed at it. Easy, he said. Piece of cake. He'd come out shining like the sun, and then they'd all have to know that he was unstoppable. That he was the final and true winner. And so, with nothing but the clothes on his back, he stepped into the woods without even waving goodbye.

For the first little while, he was perfectly fine. He'd found a little clearing and settled down, leaned against the tree, and simply waited. The sounds of the forest were soothing, after all, and he thought he would have absolutely no problems getting to sleep. And then he'd just wait out the rest of the night, right?

It wasn't long after that he began to get the strong feeling that he was being watched. He constantly gazed around, feeling more and more unsettled by the second, but tried to ignore it. He was just being ridiculous! The hag was scarier than the woods! But he knew he'd made a dire mistake when the bushes began rustling, and a growling beast approached him. One that was almost human, but so disturbingly animalistic that there was no questioning its identity; this was a wolf, true and true. With bared fangs and flattened ears and eyes that glowed in the low moonlight.

He barely had time to scream before it bounced on him, tearing his flesh to ribbons and making in scream in agony. He managed to run back to the village, barely escaping from its violent grasp before breaking out of the woods. It refused to come out of the shelter of the trees, but the child screamed and cried out enough to get people's attention. Bloodied and broken, he pointed towards the trees and described what had happened, choking on his own sobs. After that, he never took another dare or challenge again. He spent most of his time indoors, hiding his scars and wailing about the terrifying beast who had ruined his entire life, who kept him from even looking at the woods, who turned him into a whimpering coward.

The same kind of terrifying beast who had lead Marth out of the forest when he was headed straight for danger.

These thoughts had been troubling him ever since that one encounter, and he found that he started to look at things a little differently. Those costumes the children wore, weren't they just a bit too exaggerated? The stories the parents and grandparents wove, weren't they just a bit too far-fetched?

The hunts his father went on, weren't they just a bit too… unjust?

He just couldn't get them out of his head for the life of him; they plagued him during his chores in the day and while he tried to find rest at night. He couldn't tell anyone, for that might set him at risk of being ridiculed and mocked, and he just couldn't have that; he kept his thoughts to himself and hid them behind his constant smiles, and his slight absentmindedness went unnoticed by everyone. Perhaps that was why, as he was taking the usual bright, sunny path down through the forest to Elice's house, he didn't notice the soft footsteps in the bushes behind him. He most certainly noticed the sudden absence of a basket in his hands, however; as soon as it was tugged from his grip, he spun around just in time to watch a man hurry off in one direction or another. He didn't much care what direction it was - it was away from him, with his sister's medicine, and that was what mattered.

If he ran back the way he came, he could go get help. He could call for someone to help him and they would search the woods for what he would describe as a man and they would insist was a wolf. He could run until he found someone on the road, and they might assist him in his search. Might even go get someone from town for him. He could also hurry on to his sister's house in hopes that Merric was there and would know what to do, because the man _always_ knew what to do.

Instead, Marth reached down into his boot, pulled out his dagger, and ran after him.

This was most certainly not the relatively clear path that he'd gone through before. Sure, it hadn't necessarily been nicely marked and bordered like the usual path, but it wasn't overgrown like this. Ferns and bushes tugged fiercely at his trousers; his bright red cloak was beaten about by clinging thorns and prodding branches; his shirt was nearly torn several times. As he ran, his hood actually fell back from its usual position over the top of his head, concealing his carefully-aligned hair and headband that managed to keep it mostly in place. This most certainly was not helping to keep this arrangement in place, but he didn't care about that very much at the current moment. He was much too preoccupied with keeping the man in his sights.

The thief was wearing a dark brown that easily bled in with the surrounding dark forest, but he kept his eyes locked onto him as he sprinted. He'd always been particularly good at that wolf game, and for that, he was glad. His thin build allowed him the speed and mobility and grace that he needed to weave through this underbrush in order to get closer to the man he needed to desperately to catch up to, which he was doing quite well, surprisingly. In fact, he thought that he would be coming upon him quite soon, especially since it seemed like he was slowing already.

This likely should have thrown up some warning signs for the bluenette; a thief would never slow unless he was gasping for air and at the point of collapse, and unless this man was actually in dire need of some sort of medicine - which was entirely possible - he shouldn't have been at that point just yet. But everything had happened so quickly, so unexpectedly; he was just happy that he'd be able to get the medicine back. God forbid he be forced to return home and be late with the doses, again! Elice couldn't be forced to wait again!

So Marth didn't slow when the man did, but kept his eyes trained on him and adjusted the knife in his hand. His father had taught him how to defend himself just in case he was put in a situation like this long ago. By now, he was well suited for it, and was actually rather skilled, if he was able to brag a little bit. So even a thief such as this wouldn't be able to-

He skidded to a stop, fallen leaves and soil scattering everywhere, as two or three more ruffians seemed to practically melt out of the trees, each similarly clad in the rugged brown cloaks, the thin dark shirts, the rough canvas pants, the sturdy thick boots. Everything was so roughly sewn together it was a wonder the clothing even stayed on, quite honestly. But now was most certainly not the time to be questioning the fashion choices of his attackers. He was able to disarm one, _maybe_ two men, but three? Four? He didn't have a chance.

Marth frowned lightly, taking a step backwards even as the dirty men laughed and pushed forward, jeering.

"What's the matter, little boy? You seemed so determined before! So mean! You were going to gut me like a fish, where's that courage now?" the one holding his basket snickered, drawing a knife of his own.

"Ohh my, I'm shaking! He's going to kill us dead with that little toy of his, he is!" another one with a large, scraggly beard cackled, bending over with the force of laughter at his own joke.

"I won't take this!" Marth snapped, even though he was already taking another step back as if he could even pretend he had hopes of escaping. "You'd better give me back my property, or so help me, I just might!"

"How much do you think we could get for that cloak of his?" the smallest one piped up, a nasty, pointed grin pasted on his face. "I bet it's a very fine material, I'd say so. Such a vibrant color!" He trailed off, as if lost in the fantasy of the riches his precious garment would catch, but his friends pushed forward still, laughing, taunting, waving their weapons.

The boy stepped backwards all the while, his eyes never leaving the four of them, flickering between each hooded figure quickly as he calculated. He could outrun them, most likely. The small one might be a problem, because he was also very thin and looked as though he could move very fast, but he could deal with one of them on his own. He wouldn't be able to describe them to anyone, unfortunately; their clothing made them too generic, their hoods hid their faces, save for their crooked nose tips and glinting eyes, and, save for the small one, they were all roughly an average size. That didn't matter, though - what mattered was that he got out alive. He'd have to turn around as soon as they were distracted by something, though, anything at all! The thoughts were slipping through his mind almost faster than he could process them, but he was sure he had a plan now. Just as long as something went right. But he would receive no such luck, it seemed; they kept their beady eyes trained on him as they moved closer, and he was just about to bolt for it when his heart dropped directly into his feet and stayed there.

His back hit a tree, one of his hands was left gripping uselessly at the rough bark.

He swallowed the lump that suddenly formed in his throat, raising his now rather feeble weapon to try and make some sort of attempt at protecting himself. Maybe if he threw one of them off their game, then the others would be surprised enough that he could make a run for it? The path wasn't too far from here, so as long as he didn't get his wits scared off he should be fine, right? He would make it, right? He wouldn't become another one of those stories that warned the little children away from the wolf-infested forest?

One of the men lunged, and he braced himself for the blow…

…That never came.

There was a sickening screech of terror as the man was suddenly tackled by a snarling figure that, in all of the excitement, Marth couldn't place. He took the time to simply jump out of his vulnerable position and confront another one of the men - specifically, the one holding his basket. At least, he was. Now, he threw it carelessly behind him, making the bluenette cringe; what if the medicine bottle broke? This would all be for nothing!

Regardless, he waited until the man lunged towards him before quickly dodging to the side and kicking out, swiftly bringing the man down a bit by slamming into his knee. He'd drawn a knife already, unsurprisingly, and that was most certainly not good news. He kicked out again, bringing the man to the ground with a shocked, breathless grunt before slamming down with one fist on the wrist which held the blade - his left, interestingly enough. It seemed as though Marth was the only left-handed one in his entire town, even though he knew it wasn't true; it was just so _rare_ for someone else to share the trait. Pushing the thought aside, he then kicked at this wrist as well, sending the knife flying out of his grip - and the man entirely unprotected. Realizing this, the man scrabbled to his feet just as the boy slashed out with his knife, leaving a solid cut straight across his cheek. With a small cry of pain, he scuttled back, letting out a small, strangled sound of shock as he looked past Marth before turning tail and running, still holding his cheek.

With a small blink of confusion, he turned to look at what he might have gotten so upset over, and felt his stomach drop to his feet to join his heart.

The other three men lay in a rather bloody mess, dead bodies torn open and seemingly bitten by… something. Something very sharp and very dangerous and something that Marth did not want to meet in the _slightest_ - but it appeared that he didn't have this luxury, for his gaze moved over a bit to land upon a very startling sight.

The same wolf as before, with his tousled blue hair and his ears that flopped about and his sharp blue eyes was examining him silently, as if he was waiting for something. _Waiting_ for a scream or a yell or a cry or a faint. There was blood on his mouth, on his hands, on his feet. Blood just about everywhere else, too, and he raised a hand, wiping a bit at his aforementioned bloody mouth. It got a majority of it off, at least, but left a little smear where it had been. And judging by where he _was_, Marth could only assume that the figure that had suddenly leaped in for his rescue was, indeed, the wolf once again.

He was still staring at him, though. As if _daring_ him.

He paused for a long moment, staring him straight in the eye even as he replaced his knife in his boot. "That blood might stain your shirt, you know," he said finally, raising an eyebrow lightly.

The wolf blinked a little bit at this, opening his bloody mouth and closing it before finally breaking down and giving a small smile, shaking his head. "Probably, but maybe that'll help scare you off! I thought I told you not to come back around here, Little Red," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. One of his ears twitched a little bit as they righted themselves, raising from their flattened position.

Marth sniffed lightly, stepping over and retrieving his basket before looking at the three now-dead men that lay around the wolf's feet. "Did you really have to… to kill them?" he murmured softly, a little troubledly, raising his eyes to meet the other boys.

He sniffed in return, shaking his head. "Did I have to?" he replied, raising an eyebrow. "No. Was it probably the wisest decision? Only maybe. But I didn't want to take the risk of them attacking anyone else, and one of them got away. That's enough." He studied Marth for a moment, tilting his head to the side a little bit. "Y'know, you handled yourself better than I thought you would've," he murmured thoughtfully, his right ear twitching once again. "You've done this before, then?"

"No," Marth admitted, carefully looking through the items that, thankfully, hadn't broken. "I… Well, yes, kind of, I suppose. Nothing like that, exactly, but I've had to protect myself from thieves in the past. Usually just bringing out the knife deters them, because-"

"-They don't like an unnecessary fight," the tall boy finished for him, nodding a bit. "Good to know you have a reasonable head on your shoulders, then." After a moment of apparent thought, he made a face. "Actually, no, nevermind. If you had a reasonable head on your shoulders, you wouldn't be running around in such a blinding color. Do you know how much attention that brings to you? It's a wonder you weren't gutted and left on the side of the road long before now."  
The bluenette blinked at this before letting out a little huff and shaking his head before replying, "I think I have the capabilities to make my own wardrobe choices, mister bloodstains. I can clearly handle myself."

"Really?" the wolf shot back, leaning against a tree and raising an eyebrow once more. "Because I can count twice now where I've had to step in so you don't lose that pretty little head of yours."

His frown deepened at this, and he finally let out a small sigh of defeat. "I… I suppose so. Thank you," he murmured softly, only receiving a small grunt of affirmation in reply. After a momentary pause, however, he looked back to the fallen thieves, his troubling thoughts returning. "Are we really going to just leave them here, though?"

After a small pause, he nodded again. "Yeah. They're petty thieves. Criminals. They don't deserve any sort of recognition, and if they did, it would be in life, not in death," he replied simply, and then looked back to the hooded boy. "I would have to suggest keeping a tighter grip on that basket of yours, Little Red. I don't know what kind of errands you're running, but if they're important enough for you to risk your life for, then I would advice trying not to… well, _risk your life_. I've heard that's pretty dangerous."

"More dangerous than you?" he replied, and then instantly regretted it just a bit. Because the wolf frowned and looked away, and he didn't quite like that reaction. But why? Why did it matter what a wolf thought of him?

"…More dangerous than me," he finally confirmed, quietly, before looking back at Marth. "I mean it though. Try changing the cloak up to something, I don't know, more inconspicuous. So you don't stick out like the sore thumb you are. You'd look nice in green."

"I think 'Little Red' has more of a ring to it than 'Little Green.' What would you call me if I suddenly changed my color? That would mess up this entire dynamic."

"There's no dynamic to speak of. I give you an order, and you blatantly disobey it. That seems pretty dysfunctional to me."

"Really?" Marth smiled a little bit. "It seems to me we make an alright team."

"Yes, but you're you, and I'm me," the wolf replied flatly, face entirely stoic. "You're a human and I'm a wolf. Things don't work like that, in case you haven't noticed."

This made his now properly-located heart give a little dip again. Yes, that as how it wasn't how things were "supposed" to work, but they must've worked differently at some point, right?

"Then why do you keep helping me?" he suddenly demanded, frowning again. "I never cry out for your assistance. I'm not some damsel in distress. You just show up, and you're the one telling _me_ it's not supposed to work like that?"

The wolf considered this, looking away for several long moments before turning back. "I told you. I'm not a monster. If I see that color of yours, Little Red, then I'm going to check it out to make sure you didn't get yourself in some other ridiculous situation. And not because you're you, but because you're so easy to pick out of a crowd, get it? I see you need the help, so why wouldn't I give it?" He sighed lightly, shaking his head. "Not like I would do anything else. I mean, it's not like I have a reason _not_ to help you."

"Because things don't work like that. Or have you already forgotten your own reasoning?"

"No, but…" He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair and leaving an odd red streak. "Maybe… Maybe I didn't want to be something hiding under a little kid's bed. You didn't utterly freak out the first time I helped you, like other people would. God, I remember the one time this lady tried to set me on fire, or whatever. That was a trip. Point is, though," he said with another shake of his head, raising an eyebrow, "that we can't function as a team because we're not supposed to. In the end, someone's just going to end up getting hurt. Whether it's you or me or some third party. And it just… wouldn't be worth it, Little Red. Not for anything."

Marth considered this for a moment, a hand on his hip as he studied the other bluenette. "Why couldn't we change how things work?" he finally said, very softly.

He only received silence as the wolf stared him down.

Finally, he shook his head again. "You've got big dreams, you know. But we've met twice. And we're only ever going to meet twice. Because you're going to stay out of this area of the forest. Get it?" His frown intensified. "I'm not going to save you a third time."

He gave a small huff, turning away. "Fine. Maybe things aren't supposed to work like that, after all," he murmured softly, a little sadly, as he stepped away from the clearing, feeling the wolf's eyes boring into the back of his head even as he came closer to the path. Hearing his soft footsteps as he ensured he made it back there safely. Listening to his almost silent retreat back into the dark area of the forest.

Watching the area where he'd seen him disappear before reaching back and lifting his hood back up over his ruffled hair and continuing back down the path.


	3. Chapter 3: Third Time's the Charm

**A/N: **Sorry again for the delay! It seems I can't keep a stable update time for the life of me.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Third Time's the Charm**

* * *

Marth had promised himself many times over the past week or two to forget about the wolf he somehow managed to find, but he found that he was the _only_ thing that he could think about.

_"You're you, and I'm me."_

It became to be that time of year again, where his father and his friends would go out into the woods and set up the traps in the woods that Elice could never bear to look at. The ones he was slowly becoming rather sickeningly familiar and comfortable around, the ones that he knew were designed specifically for wolves. It wasn't as though they had to trap anything else, after all.

Sometimes, they would catch a thief or two within them, seeing as they weren't too difficult to miss; a long, thin wire was tied in a knot and set on the ground, concealed just a bit by some loose leaves and dirt. There was another wire, practically invisible, just above the loop, which triggered a spring when it was stepped on or tugged. The loop shot up and snagged the wolf's ankle, and they were then pulled upwards to dangle helplessly. It was incredibly similar to a pulley system, and it was nearly impossible for them to reach up and cut themselves free, even though their claws were entirely capable of it. Unless, of course, they get very, very lucky.

The cruelty of it had never been lost on him, and he'd always wished there were more humane ways to kill the poor things. But that was before he was aware of just how grand the tales tended to get; he knew they must be exaggerating before but he'd never thought that it would go so far as to turn innocent - or at least, fair - beings into complete ravenous beasts.

_"You're a human, and I'm a wolf."_

He'd begun to learn how to spot him in the woods now, in fact. It was just a subtle movement, out of the corner of his eye, and he could never really notice him for very long. Just enough to make note of it, and then he practically disappeared without a trace. It was both unsettling and a little comforting at the same time, but even so, he never tried to confront him. He simply went along on the path, minding his own business, pretending that he couldn't care less about some wolf.

_"Things don't work like that, in case you haven't noticed."_

_"Why couldn't we change how things work?"_

It still felt like a very valid question.

* * *

There had been no more thieves, no more cutting through the woods. No more lost baskets, no more need for him to be rescued. Not that there had ever been, of course. But now, there was just less of one, which meant no reason for the wolf to follow him. So why did the man seem to care?

It occurred to him, during his ceaseless pondering of the subject, that he could have always been doing that, without Marth noticing. After all, he hadn't felt any specific need to thoroughly scrutinize the forest on either side of him in the past, so who was to say that this wasn't normal behavior for this wolf? Had he always been looking after him, like that? That might make some sense, considering he'd been there both times to rescue him, but there was something that didn't quite fit. Why him? Why would he choose to protect _him_?

But what if it wasn't just him?

_"God, I remember the one time this lady tried to set me on fire, or whatever. That was a trip."_

Why would he be constantly be trying to look out for the people that hated him so much? It made absolutely no sense to the bluenette, and even less when he considered that reaction. A woman had tried to _burn_ him to death, and yet he still had the courage to come near humans to assist them? He either had some sort of serious hero complex, or he was incredibly _stupid_.

_"Maybe… Maybe I didn't want to be something hiding under a little kid's bed."_

It made less and less sense the more he thought about it, and he thought about it quite a lot. Especially in recent days, with the traps set and the forest quiet. Oddly enough, he also hadn't seen those occasional flickers out of the corner of his eye, and this had become such a basic part of his day that he felt incredibly disturbed without it. It was as natural as the trees themselves, almost. Which was strange, considering it had only been going on for two weeks. Perhaps his earlier theory had a little more weight than he imagined.

He paused mid-step after a moment, stopping altogether as he listened carefully. He'd thought he heard something. Off to the side, in the bushes; distinct enough to notice, but not so much that he'd be able to describe it. It was far enough away from the path that it was muted and quiet, which was enough to make him wonder if he'd simply imagined it. He stared off in that direction for several long moments, but the only sounds that followed were his own breathing and the wind rustling through the leaves.

The boy blinked slowly, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth gently as he weighed the options. He was returning from Elice's house now, and it wasn't as though he was in any hurry. Nor did he have anything particularly valuable on him, so there was really nothing he had to lose, was there? He repeated this thought to himself as he drew his knife from its sheath secured his basket in the crook of one arm, pushing forward past the foliage. There was probably someone on the path, somewhere. Especially at this time of day. If he found himself in trouble he couldn't take care of, then he could just yell for help.

Somebody would come, human or not. He was sure of it.

For several more long moments of absolutely nothing, he was left wondering if he really _had_ imagined the noise. Anyone at the town would probably laugh at him, clutching this knife tightly in his fist as he combed through the forest, tugging his cloak out of the same grabbing branches and stumbling over hidden roots. Especially in wolf trapping season; what would hurt him, otherwise? He knew how to locate the signs that warned him of the trip wires, and the general locations of a lot of them. In fact, there would be one coming up right about here, right in front of this bush-

He froze entirely when he saw the figure, hanging by a bare ankle. There was a small trickle of blood coming from where a thin string would presumably be, and he could assume that this was a side effect of a rather desperate struggle to break free. Which they never would, of course; the wires used were incredibly durable, and wouldn't break without some sort of sharp object. The unfortunate stranger would sooner cut off his own foot than earn his freedom.

He seemed to have registered this, and was now simply hanging still, evidently trying to process some sort of means of escape. Or at least, he might've been; now, he was entirely tense, likely because he heard Marth approach. After a moment of silence, the hooded boy took a step forward, and there was a low growl from the man. His ears had already drooped beforehand, but now they were also set back, towards Marth; he was stuck facing the opposite direction, with no way of knowing who was behind him. This was very clearly a warning sign, and even though he was really in no position to defend himself at the moment, it was threatening enough. If the bluenette hadn't had his experiences from before, he likely would've turned tail and run as far away as possible. Called someone from the village. Gotten this terrifying beast away. But he knew better now.

"If you want me to leave, I'll leave," he said softly, walking slowly around the figure. He'd stiffened in apparent confusion and recognition, and when Marth got into his line of vision, he relaxed again. "But you don't really seem to be in the position to pick and choose."

The wolf blinked slowly at him, clenching and unclenching his fists as he tried to formulate a response. "... I can't say I know what you're talking about. This is all a part of my plan to get into the mind of opossums, and I've deduced that they're completely crazy," he replied, relief in his voice more than it was in his expression. "And that I'm a fool for not watching where I was going. Can't say I expected to see you, though, Little Red."

"Then that makes two of us," Marth replied, looking around for the footholds he knew must be around here somewhere. "I must say, you do look fairly entertaining like that, but I suppose I should cut you down." It was true - he looked rather ridiculous. His shirt was hanging down in his face, which left his stomach exposed, and his hair hung away from his face so that he looked as though he was constantly shocked. He could see his tail twitching a bit just behind him, and every once in a while, one of his ears moved just the tiniest bit to catch another sound. Which only reminded him that he should probably hurry.

"My hero," was his only reply, and he fell silent again as Marth searched. Finally, he found the subtle footholds in one of the trees, beginning to climb with ease. Really, everyone called him 'little' still - the fact that the wolf had managed to do this as well was rather amusing - but even if he was, he at least had the force to back it up. The work and occasional proper training that his father put him through made him rather toned and strong; he was quite capable at climbing trees. Which was good, because the wire was some distance from the ground.

"I'm going to cut it," he warned him, and swung his arm through the air so that it sliced cleanly through the trap. The wolf fell with the grace of a newborn fawn, but he sat up again, holding his head with one hand as he shook it. Marth watched him for a moment or two before climbing down again and regarding him curiously. "You seem more like the type to check where you're going," he commented with a slightly raised brow, and earned a glance in his direction.

"You also seem like the sensible type, but here we are again," he replied again, although he _did_ seem just a bit amused. Not that it was too easy to tell, with him, but he gave slight signs with his eyes. Otherwise, he was entirely stoic. "It's like you're actively seeking me out, or something."

The bluenette rolled his eyes a little bit as he moved closer to him, kneeling down beside his leg. "_I'm_ the one actively seeking _you_ out? I've noticed, you know. Stalking is typically frowned upon," he replied, gently shifting the wire that was still tightly wound around the other bluenette's ankle. He winced a little bit at the pain, but simply frowned at his words.

"You saw me, then? Also, I can do that myself."

"I've been seeing you for the past couple of weeks. You're not too hard to miss, once you know what to look for. Have you considered dying your hair?" Marth managed to carefully position the knife where he wouldn't cut the wolf and sliced clean through the wire, prompting the other to rub at the stinging area, making a bit of a face.

"It's dark enough not to be seen, unless people are as apparently perceptive as you are. I'm beginning to wonder how that thief managed to catch you by surprise, you know."

Marth sniffed a little bit, straightening and holding a hand out, which he took and got to his feet with. "Everyone has their off days. Look at you," he pointed out, and then frowned, suddenly guilty. There was a pause as he glanced down at his acquaintance's injured ankle, and then back up at his face. "I'm sorry."

The wolf had frowned as well at his first comment, but he blinked a little at his second, tilting his head. "What are you apologizing for? This wasn't _your_ trap, was it?" he asked, suddenly far more serious than before. It was as if his guard had suddenly sprung up around him again; gates slammed down over his eyes, and he became subtly tense as he waited for a response.

He blinked once more at this assumption, immediately shaking his head rapidly. "No! Of course not! I would never do such a thing! But..." He trailed off, glancing aay for a moment before looking him solidly in the eye once more. "My father would. That trap was probably his. And other people would, as well. So I figured you deserved an apology... on behalf of the human race."

All he received was a solid stare in return, before he shook his head, crossing his arms and looking aside with a heavy sigh. "I was always confused by the way people acted, you know. Wolves sometimes, people especially. But I somehow doubt that anyone has ever confused me more than _you_, Little Red," he said after a long pause, looking back over at the boy.

Marth simply smiled at this, before holding out his hand and tilting his head to the side a little bit. "My name's Marth, by the way," he explained, raising an eyebrow. "So you don't have to keep referring to me as 'Little Red' to all your friends when you complain."

The wolf raised an eyebrow at this, but didn't offer his hand in return. "If I decided to start complaining about you, I'd sooner be shunned and kicked out, but I appreciate the effort. Either way, it's not like we'll be meeting again, so-"

"Oh, would you _drop_ it already?" he interjected with a deep frown. "We've met three times already, and you kept your word that you wouldn't save me a third time. So I don't see what the problem is!"

There was the same even, heavy stare from before, and he could practically see the gears turning in this man's head. Why was it so hard to accept that they could be friends? Sure, everyone else was opposed tot he situation, but that didn't mean they had to be. And they could even change minds! This could be a bridge that they could build together, and he would lecture this damn wolf for as long as it took before he agr-

He blinked in surprise when a warm hand was suddenly shaking his firmly, and he looked up at the other man in mild surprise. "Ike," he said simply, tilting his head slightly bit. "My name's Ike. And you're still going to be Little Red to me until you lose that cloak of yours. It's a penalty for not following my advice."

Marth blinked slowly at this, before breaking out into a wide, bright grin. So maybe this thickheaded idiot was capable of building bridges, too. Who would've thought. "It's nice to meet you, Ike. I guess I can accept that, though. You're not the first one to dub me that," he replied cheerfully, finally withdrawing his hand as Ike gave a thoughtful tilt of the head.

"Is that so? I was hoping I'd been at least a little original, there," he replied, giving a mock almost-pout. Probably as much of a pout as he could manage. "Then I'll just have to go back to the drawing board, it seems."

"Oooh, no. I'm not too willing to see what else can come out of that head of yours. We can stick with Little Red, and if anyone else decides to try and claim the nickname I'll just have to inform them that it's copyrighted by my mysterious friend."

"Mysterious friend, eh?" Ike scratched a little at the back of his head, looking slightly amused. "Seems like a bit of a lackluster title."

"How about... Friendly Neighborhood Stalker? Path Watcher? Big Bad Wolf?" Marth gave a small grin as his new friend reeled back, as if he'd struck him with the knife in his hand.

"Ouch, harsh, are we? You're not quite as meek as that first time, it seems."

"Well, it seems you've exposed your biggest secret. You're not that bad after all."

"That was so cheesy that it's endearing. But only a bit; it was mostly just awful."

Marth gave a half-pout, feigning hurt. "So I'm not the only one that's harsh! It's not like I could say you're not that wolfish, because that would just be a lie, and you're not _that_ big, I guess. Mostly you just seem grumpy."

The other bluenette snorted at this, shaking his head. "Maybe so, but only because I need to be running after little boys all the time," he shot back in response, to which Marth smiled.

"Well... you might not be doing much running on that ankle. Oh, wait," he said, a thought suddenly occurring to him. He dug around in his basket for a few moments before he pulled out some bandages - something he always kept on hand in case of an emergency - and knelt down, swiftly wrapping it around his ankle. The other boy blinked a little bit at this, mildly surprised as he straightened.

"You certainly come prepared," he murmured softly, reaching his leg up and feeling the wrapping gently before dropping it again. "But... thank you, Marth." He looked back to Marth and gave a small, gentle smile, which made him blink in surprise. Or maybe make a face as well, because that smile turned into a somewhat puzzled expression. "What?"

"Huh? Oh, it's nothing. I guess hearing you call me by name is just a little... strange, I suppose," he replied with a soft chuckle.

The wolf gave a slightly teasing smirk at this, raising an eyebrow. "Is that so? I'll try not to make too much of a habit out of it, then. Either way, I think I should get going. At least before someone decides to check their trap. I don't think they'd take very kindly to you talking to me, much less cutting me free." He sighed lightly, tilting his head again as he thought. "But... really, though. You saved my life. So thank you."

Marth blinked at this and smiled warmly, shaking his head as he spoke, "No, don't worry. I have to repay you somehow, so if you just happen to get into another situation like this, I'll be around. At least once more. Then I can't make any promises."

"I don't plan on getting myself into as many ridiculous situations as you, you know."

"I only have one more."

"Twice as many, though."

"Boo." Marth stuck his tongue out childishly, but then smiled again. "I take it our talks won't be as separated this time around? I mean, now that you've decided to accept that the whole 'not the way it is' thing is a sham."

"Mmm..." The wolf scratched idly behind one of his ears, pausing, before finally letting up a bit. "Maybe if you happen to wander a little off the path every once in a while, then I'll just happen to be nearby and set you straight. You seem to have developed the ability to know just when, though, so..."

"So long as you don't get yourself strung up again, then I think that's perfectly acceptable," Marth teased again, to which Ike rolled his eyes.

"At least some other poor sap without a human friend won't go wandering into it now. Believe it or not, I'm one of the _smarter ones_. Sad, huh?" He placed a hand on his hip, and then sighed. "If you 'accidentally' cut down one or two more on your way, then I don't think anyone could complain. Not that I can ask you to do that. Because I take that back - a lot of people would complain. Just not the people I need to deal with." A wry smile touched his lips, and he shook his head.

He blinked a few times at these words, and felt a bit of guilt twist inside of him again. That was right; there were people who actually died from those traps. Be it by people when they found them or the blood rushing to their head to kill them, they would never get out. Unless they were particularly clever, but that hardly ever happened, and it was usually only with a very sloppy trap. He wished he could cut down every one of them in this forest, but... he had a point. Everyone in the town would be enraged, and probably blame the wolves again. And if they found out that it was him...

Ike's words broke through his troublesome thoughts."I'll see you later, Little Red," he finally said, nodding and turning to disappear into the leaves.

Marth paused before smiling once again, nodding in reply and shifting his basket. "Goodbye, Ike. Stay safe," he warned much more softly. He heard the man pause.

"You as well," came his reply, and then he slipped away, leaving Marth with only the sound of the leaves in the trees and his footprints in the dirt.


End file.
